


The Lost and Forgotten Queen

by Artemis_09



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Character(s), During Canon, F/M, Female Character of Color, Ice Queen, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jonsa if you squint really hard, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_09/pseuds/Artemis_09
Summary: Jon must try to find all that he can, gather as many people as possible, to help defeat the Night King. When Sam and Bran come to him, speaking of a long forgotten queen of ice, he wonders if that is the salvation he needed before turning south to Dragonstone and the Dragon Queen. Is the ice queen real and will she be able to provide the help that Jon and his kingdom need?





	The Lost and Forgotten Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before the series finale. I must say that I am DEEPLY disappointed by the ending but thank god we still have the books. I like doing slice of life fan fics and I feel that this this one shot fits well with whatever has happened or will happen. I did changed a few things such as Bran and Sam come to Winterfell earlier, but Arya has yet to arrive. Please let me know what you think! This is the longest one shot I've ever written and would love to hear your thoughts.

Jon sat in his solar, the fire crackling but doing little to keep him warm. Papers were strewn across the wooden table, words full of pleading and talk of the war to come filling the pages. One paper was filled with a summons by the dragon queen which brought promise of an ally with a full army, three dragons, and dragon glass. Jon stared into the fire, his gloved hand resting underneath his chin as his mind racing with ways to fight against the army of the undead and the Night KIng, but every scenario left him with only one out; everyone’s death and destruction. 

Jon looked up at the sound of his door opening, Sam stepping through with a book in his hands, looking nervous as usual. Jon met Sam’s eyes with a soft but warm smile. Jon knew that no matter what, Sam was there for him. 

“What can I do for you Sam,” Jon asked, watching in slight amusement as Sam placed an old book on Jon’s desk, and opened it to a page with gentle fingers. 

“I’ve found something, or rather someone, who might be able to help us,” Sam replied as he pointed to a passage and took a step back with a proud look on his face. Jon looked at the words, the only ones he could focus on were powerful ice queen. Jon looked back at Sam, leaning into his chair with a deep breath.

“What are you trying to tell me Sam,” Jon asked. Sam took a deep breath.

“I think there is an ancient ice queen in a secret part of the Nightfort; and if it’s true, if she’s real, she may be able to tell us how to defeat the Night King,” Sam said to Jon with a confidence that Jon did not feel. 

“I’m sorry Sam, but I need something more than an ancient queen who may or may not exist,” Jon said after a sigh. Sam took a step towards the desk, a pleading look in his eyes for Jon to believe him, to believe in him.

“Just like the Night King and the white walkers, and giants and dragons. The world we thought we knew is gone Jon,” Sam told him. Jon watched his best friend before running a hand over his tired face.

“I don’t know Sam,” Jon admitted. Sam remained silent, watching his best friend and the invisible crown that lies heavy on his head. The two men are torn from their thoughts at the sound of a knock at Jon’s door. Sam moved to open the heavy wooden door to find Sansa with Bran in his wheelchair. Sansa pushed her younger brother into the room, a dark look on her face and an empty look on his. Jon stood, a small amount of shock filling him at the sight of his half-siblings.

“Sansa, Bran,” Jon sighed out. He feels like he is sighing every five seconds these days.

“What Sam says is true. This ice queen. She is real,” Bran stated simply. Jon and Sam look at each other before turning their gaze back onto the younger man.

“Even if she is real, who’s to say she can or will help us,” Jon told them. He could feel his heart begin to beat so hard that it would come out of his chest. If this ice queen was real there was only one person who can go. Jon also felt greatly disturbed by his brother’s new countenance but he buried it deep for now. 

“I know the plans that you had thought of Jon,” Bran began, turning his all-seeing stare onto the King in the North, “Go to the ice queen.” 

“Jon can’t go,” Sansa stated, her light voice reaching Jon’s ears. Sansa looked at the three men incredulously. 

“Jon is the King. He cannot abandon Winterfell in pursuit of a queen,” Sansa told them before leveling her look onto Jon, “Send an emissary to treat with her, but you must remain here in Winterfell.”

Jon sank down into his chair, looking between the three of them. It was a hard choice but he knew what he must do.

“If this ice queen exists then she will not treat with an emissary. I must represent the North,” Jon said with strength. Sansa moved from behind Bran to beside his desk, her chest beginning to heave with anger.

“And who will lead Winterfell and prepare for the winter to come,” Sansa asked, “The moment you leave the northern lords will fight for dominance.” 

“I will be leaving Winterfell in your hands,” Jon told her, fighting the urge to smile at the shocked look that came over her face. Sansa took a step back, falling silent at Jon’s words. Jon stood and walked from behind his desk, closer to her. He grabbed her hand and held it gently in his.

“You are the only person here that I can trust with such a thing Sansa. You know the Northern lords and how they operate, you’re good with the common people, and you know what must be done to prepare for winter and the Long Night to come,” Jon said, his hand tightening on hers as if to wake her from her reverie. 

“If we are to defeat the Night King then Jon must go,” Bran said, his voice devoid of emotion. Sansa and Jon looked into each other’s eyes. They’ve been here before, a disagreement of how things will be done, but this will be the first time they have been apart since they first saw each other at the wall. It felt like so long ago, and yet the wounds of that time before prickled their skin. Sansa took a deep breath, anything to relive the fear and pain in her chest at being separated from Jon. Her hand finally squeezed his back. 

“Very well my king. I will keep Winterfell safe until you return,” Sansa replied, giving a small curtsy. Jon gave her a small smile, knowing that she was teasing him. She knew how much the formalities of being king unsettled him. They released each other’s hands and Jon turned to Sam.

“We must find Davos and Tormund. We ride out at first light,” Jon told Sam who looked at him with shock now.

“W-w-we? I didn’t th-think I would be coming on this ex-expedition,” Sam stuttered out. Jon smiled and placed a warm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“How else were we going to find her,” Jon asked, his smile growing wider at Sam’s spluttering.

Soon Sam rolled Bran away, but Sansa remained. She sat across from Jon, watching him closely. Jon moved to stroke the fire, anything to avoid her blue eyes watching him. The silence dragged on, Jon waiting on bated breath for her next words.

“I don’t know about this Jon,” Sansa finally admitted into the cold air. He could hear the leather of her gloves as she clenched her hands. He finally turned around from the fire and looked at her, the smile from earlier disappearing.

“I don’t know about this either. But it’s the best plan we’ve got. I meant what I said Sansa, you are the best person to run Winterfell,” he told her as he moved to sit behind the desk once again. He could see the trepidation on her face.

“Do you think she will help us,” Sansa asked, her voice reminding him of the little girl she once was.

“I won’t know until I get there,” Jon replied. Silence fell between them once again, the words that they want to say escaping them.

“You’re better at this,” he said, his admission startling Sansa.

“You’re a good king Jon.”

“I’m not.”

“You  _ are. _ You’re a good man as well. One of the best I’ve ever met,” Sansa told him and her words filled him with warmth and pride. Jon doesn’t know if her faith in him is deserved, but it bolstered him all of the same. Sansa stood before walking slowly to the door. Sansa gave one last lingering look at Jon before exiting, seeing nothing but the brown on the top of his head as he gazes at the papers on his desk. Jon waits to hear the door close behind Sansa before leaning back and scrubbing a gloved hand down his face once again.

Jon felt his exhaustion creak in his cold bones. He was tired and the crown has never felt heavier. He didn’t want to leave Winterfell, his true home, but he didn’t know what else to do. The only thing he had left was the small bloom of hope in his heart that the ice queen was real and that she would help them defeat the Night King.

 

~0~0~

 

Jon sat on his dark horse at the gates of Winterfell; Davos, Tormund, and Sam on steeds just behind him. He could feel eyes on his back and he turned around to find Sansa’s blue eyes looking at him. They were filled with concern, and he couldn’t help but give her a gentle smile. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that Sansa Stark was now concerned about him, the bastard of Winterfell, but it warmed his heart in ways that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Jon looked down and found Bran sitting in his wheelchair, staring into him in a much different way than Sansa was. In Bran’s eyes there was no concern, almost no sign of life at all. Jon did see a knowing in Bran’s eyes that no else has ever possessed. Bran was now Brandon the Wise and it hurt Jon to see the little boy that used to climb the walls of Winterfell melted away. Jon gave a small wave goodbye to Sansa and a small nod to Bran before nodding for the gates to open. He couldn’t look back any longer, if he did he would never leave.

He could hear the horses’ hooves crunch in the snow, the cold biting his cheeks, but it did not bother him like it once did, like before he died; before he was betrayed by his brothers. He didn’t come back right, he knew. An integral part of him was now missing and he didn’t think he could ever get it back. He wasn’t truly living, just passing the days by, waiting for the Night King to come.

The road to the Wall was a hard one. The nights were even colder than days and the thought of Sansa running from their home to him filled his mind. She had much less than he had and she barely made it. She was much stronger and smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

Jon and Tormund stroked a fire to life one night, the four men settling close around it, trying to find some warmth. They stayed mostly silent, listening to the woods around them. The winds made the trees sing and dance, the sounds setting the men on edge, waiting for something to attack them. Tormund was the first to break the heavy silence that had fallen over them.   

“We have stories of this Ice Queen,” he told them, looking and waiting for all of the eyes to be on him.

“What were they,” Sam asked, his eyes shining with intrigue. For a moment Jon could imagine a little Sam in the library or sitting with the Maester, his eyes gleaming and begging for a story. Anything to help him learn. In the present, Tormund was happy to provide. Tormund’s voice became low and deep, as if he was telling them all a deep secret.

“She was said to be the most beautiful woman in Westeros. No one can remember her true name; and she is said to be served by men and women who gave their breath to her,” Tormund told them, his eyebrows lifting, the fire blazing in his blue eyes as he set the scene.

“She used to be one of the most powerful woman in the north. Men and women would fall at her feet, practically begging to serve her. It was a greater honor than being a king or a crow. But as the first men’s power grew and became Starks and Karstarks and the wall was built her power was lost. At least, that’s what the stories say,” Tormund continued, his face becoming more and more pink as he drew closer to the fire to tell his tale.

“What did you mean by give their breath to her,” Davos asked, the older man becoming enthralled in the story as well. Tormund sat back, satisfied that he was able to intrigue all.

“If you were chosen she would come to you and give you a kiss. They say that her kisses were so deep that as she pulled away you can see their very souls leave. She took their breath, their soul, and granted eternal living in its stead,” the man kissed by fire told them. Jon’s face became even more severe than usual as he looked over at his red haired friend.

“Do you think she still has enough power to help us,” Jon asked him. The brightness in Tormund’s eyes fled as reality came crashing around them again.

“She’s so ancient that any wisdom she can provide can potentially help us in the long night to come. The question that we need to ask is if she’ll help us to begin with,” Tormund postulated. Silence fell over the camp again as Tormund’s words filled their minds.

Jon was awake for first watch and he was thankful for it. So many thoughts swirled in his mind that he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He wondered about Sansa, Winterfell, and the Night King, but most of all he wondered about this Ice Queen. He wondered what she looked like and sounded like. Would she be as old as time itself or would she be as young as the fresh powdered snow on the ground. He began to imagine what her hair looked like. Perhaps she was a brunette, her skin as pale as blue ice, the veins trailing their way beneath her skin. Her eyes were also brown, but they were gentle and kind. He had to latch on the image of kindness in hopes that maybe it was true and maybe it would lead her to helping them. Jon eventually switched with Tormund for next watch, but kind eyes stayed glued to his mind.

 

~0~0~

 

The men were faced with a gigantic white weirwood gate. Wrinkled eyes stared back at them, sending chills down each of their spines. Jon felt the trepidation sink in. Was it all a mistake? Did he leave his family behind once again for nothing but death and fear? Jon didn’t know the answers to these questions, and if he had been alone he might have spoken the questions aloud to the wise face before him. But he wasn’t alone, so the answers will remain a mystery until he reached the other side of this journey.

“Who are you,” the gate asked, surprising everyone but Sam who stepped forward with bravery. Jon watched his friend who usually lacked such confidence. He was happy to see Sam in his element. Sam knew this territory and would lead them forward well.

“I am the watcher on the walls,” Sam began as his reply, “I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers,” he takes a deep breath, “I am the shield that guards the realms of men.” 

The door’s lips open, “Then pass.” The lips open wider and wider until nothing else is seen but a great cavernous mouth with wrinkles lining the side. Sam steps through but pauses a moment when he realizes the others are not following him.

“Well come on then. He’s not going to wait forever,” Sam said saucily. Jon and Tormund look up as they walk through the gate.

“I wish we knew about this thing before we climbed the bloody wall,” Tormund grumbled underneath his breath. Jon said nothing but was in silent agreement. As they walked through the ruins of the Nightfort, Jon could feel his skin prickling with an energy he hasn’t felt since the red woman had been in his presence. It was ancient but he felt almost at peace with it, even more than with the red woman. It felt like home. 

The silence was deafening as they continued to walk through the empty castle, the voices of the past speaking clearly. Jon could see the men of the Night’s Watch running as they prepared for a battle. He could see the Stark kings and their men dining on huge feasts, laughing and drinking, enjoying peace. The story of the Rat King feeding the visiting Kings prince pies climbed out from his past; Old Nan’s crackly voice raising goosebumps on their flesh as she recounted the tale.

That story no longer scares him like it once had. He has seen too much, been through too much to fear a Rat King. 

“Where is she supposed to be Sam,” Jon asked after some time had passed and it seemed like they had been walking for hours. Sam looked sheepish for a moment and Jon could sense he was hiding something. He gave his best friend a pointed look, when no reply came he said, “Sam,” in a disapproving and reproachful tone.

“Alright, alright. You don’t have to beat it out of me,” Sam said, ignoring the amused looks of the other three men, “The books didn’t say.”

“What do you mean the books didn’t say,” Davos asked this time, stepping forward to get into Sam’s eye line. Sam’s body shrunk onto itself. He hated disappointing people, especially men like Davos and Jon.

“They didn’t have a specific place of where she would be in the Nightfort just that she was in the Nightfort,” Sam explained.

“So we’re just expected to walk around aimlessly in these ruins until she just  _ shows  _ up?  _ If _ she shows up,” Jon asked, his voice filled with exasperation and exhaustion. Sam stayed silent but his silence was loud with his answer. Jon sighed and looked away from the other men as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew that this journey was futile. His only choice now was to go back to Winterfell and then South to meet with the dragon queen. Jon was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t see the cold fog that began to roll in. 

“Jon,” Sam began, but Jon ignored him and shut his eyes, everything crashing around him. Sam shouted at him, “Jon!”

“What Sam,” Jon snapped, finally turning back around. The cold fog was now completely enveloping their feet, their hot breaths becoming visible in the sudden cold air. Everything was now brighter and filled crystal blue. Jon could feel his breath leave his body at the sight of the woman sitting on a magnificent ice throne. The four men stepped forward slowly, too filled with awe and too filled with fear at disrupting the image before them. 

Long ice crystals dangled from the high ceilings of the castle, a light seemingly coming from within them and lending a clear view of the queen on her throne on an ice dais. The largest direwolf and snow white bear Jon had ever seen on either side of her creating a powerful image to behold. What shocked Jon most was that she looked nothing like he had imagined. Her skin was as black as night, dark blue crystal-like hair falling down to the floor. It reminded him of the hue of the Wall as it gleamed in the sunlight. Her eyes were also a striking dark blue that stared into them. Much like Bran had. Her gown was simple but held an elegance that few possesed. It was a light blue, like the sky on a sunny day, but the material was thin. The gown had a high collar, covering her throat, but the sleeves had a long slit to the shoulders as they fell gracefully to the floor. Jon knew she must not feel the cold because there was no way that such a thin dress could protect her from it. The bodice was tight fitting against her body, but the bottom of the gown flowed well past her feet, dark blue embroidery decorating the bottom in the shape of the constellations spanning the night sky. 

Finally the men had reached the ice queen, their feet and stances still unsure of if reality was before them. The closer they got the more they could see the tiny crystals making her gown sparkle and glow. There seemed to be a similar blue shimmer over her dark skin. Jon stood in front, taking deep breaths and relishing in the chill that filled his lungs. The statuesque queen remained silent, but he could see life in her eyes. It was filled with mischief and mystery and misery. 

“You disturb my peace,” she finally stated, her deep voice startling Sam, “Speak your reason for being here.”

“I am Jon,” Jon began, but she quickly cut him off.

“Snow. I know who you are. Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” she told them. Jon bristled at her words.

“Former Lord Commander,” Jon corrected. His words brought the beginnings of life to her body as she sat forward. The direwolf and white bear shifted as well, leaving the men to eye them warily. 

“There is only one way to be released from your vows Jon Snow,” the ice queen told him as if she was speaking to a child. Jon looked her directly in the eye, squaring his body as if for battle.

“Yes,” was his simple reply, the word raising the tension in the hall.

“And yet you stand here before me amongst the living,” she said, leaning back into her chair, her hands resting gracefully on the rests.

“It sounds like your informers didn’t tell you everything,” Jon told her. The room became still once again with Jon’s words, the three men behind him not moving, fearful that she might retaliate. Eyes went wide when she began to laugh. Deep full belly laughs.

“You are a brave man Jon Snow,” she said, slowly standing. The light chiffon material and her hair falling down around her in a wonderful swirl of blue. She made her way down the dias, almost floating. The men looked at each other and then back at her, awe and confusion in their eyes. 

“What does Jon Snow want from a fictional queen,” she asked as she stepped down.

“We ask for your help,” Jon said, his voice deeping slightly.

“And with what can a lonely queen help with for a former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” she asked, her tone light and curious.

“The Night King and the army of the dead come for us. You are the only person alive that knows how to defeat him,” Jon said straight out. The ice queen pauses on the last step, her eyes wide as she looks at Jon, his words freezing her in place, the blue piercing into him.

“The Night King is gone,” she said, her voice ferocious.

“And the only way for a Night’s Watchman can be released from his vows is death,” Jon replied, his voice strong and true. The ice queen straightens her back, her face turning to stone once again as she completed her walk to the four men. She looked at each of them in the eye before grazing her eyes over their form. The last one was Jon, and her gaze lingered longer than the rest. Jon waited patiently as she completed her perusal of him, feeling a fluttering in his belly and his breeches as her eyes covered his form. It was slow and purposeful, and when her eyes finally landed on his he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. 

“It seems that there is a lot we must speak about Former Lord Commander,” she finally said, her voice making his blood thrum beneath his skin. She broke their mutual gaze to look at the other men. She opened her mouth to speak but Davos spoke first.

“King,” the older man corrected her, startling everyone with his word. She looked at Davos with laser precision. Davos looked back, his back straightening and stance confident. 

“King who,” she asked, her tone clipped. 

“My apologies your Grace,” Davos said as he gave a small nod in supplication, clasping his hands behind his back, “But the man that stands before you is the King in the North.” Davos and Jon exchanged a small look that did not escape the queen’s notice. 

“Who is your father Jon Snow,” the Queen asked suddenly, her head snapping to look back at him.

“Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, your grace,” Jon replied dutifully, almost sheepishly. A glazed look came over the Queen’s as thousands of years of memories filled her mind. She has had many men come into her home, but the Starks had always been her favorite guests to serve. A moment passes and she breaks herself out of her reverie and looks at Jon once again.

“We have much to discuss my King,” she told him, giving him his proper title before looking at the other men once again, “My servants will show you to your rooms and bring you supper. I’m sure your journey here from Winterfell on the brink of winter was an exhausting one. There are also hot bath houses that you may use if you feel so inclined.” As she finished speaking her last words, blue tinged men and women stepped forward, their clothes moth eaten and from a different era, setting the men on edge. Their shoulders rose and their hands fell to their hips where their swords lay. The Queen smiled softly.

“I understand your fears,” she said, her voice gentle, “The Night King reanimates the dead. My people have taken part of eternal life. They will not harm you.” With a longer look the travelling party notice that they do not have the wights signature blue eyes or rotting flesh. The Winterfell men relaxed and allowed themselves to be walked to their rooms for the night. Soon, the Ice Queen and Jon were the only ones that remained. 

Jon couldn’t help but stare at the woman that stood before him. Her skin seemingly had blue ice crystals overlaying it, the light making her glow in a way that he had never seen before. His hands ached to touch her skin, to feel it move underneath his fingers. He wondered if it was warm or cold. He also wondered if he cared. He also noticed the soft crown on top of her head. A black circlet of branches with leaves reminiscent of a weirwood tree was nestled around her head, almost hidden by the magnificence of her long, flowing hair. Jon felt his thoughts running away with the beauty of her and had to snap himself out of it. He could count on one hand the women that have provoked such a response, but never so quickly.

She stepped closer and he offered his arm. She smiled softly at the offer, wrapping her own around his and laying her hand on top of his hand. He watched as their hands met, the contrast of her dark skin and his pale moving his heart. Her skin was warm which also raised slight surprise. His skin tingled at the contact, shooting through his veins.

“We will go to my solar,” she said, her voice soft, as if she was fearful of breaking the spell around them. All Jon could do was nod. As they began their walk, her direwolf and bear followed, their paws softly padding on the stone floor. Jon looked behind him, watching warily once again, but the queen’s gentle squeeze of his hand brought him back to her. He looked over at her, giving her his full attention.

“I have been around for a very long time your grace,” she began, but Jon cut her off momentarily.

“You can call me Jon,” he told her. She smiled at him and he thought it was a beautiful smile.

“You do not like your title,” the Queen said matter-of-factly.

“I did not choose my title,” Jon replied and the Queen nodded in understanding.

“A crown that is chosen for you is always the hardest one to bare,” the Queen said, her arm wrapping more firmly around Jon’s. He found the movement comforting. He knew in his heart that she understood the burden of making sure everyone remains alive and safe when other times he felt so alone. 

“It was a position I could have never imagined being in,” he told her, honesty lacing his voice. They finally reached the door to her solar. The direwolf and bear walked past the door as they stepped in. Jon couldn’t help but allow his gaze to follow after her as she stepped in. The room was filled with reds and blues as light shined through the stained glass windows. Jon immediately felt a sense of content settle over him as he entered. He watched as she stepped in, her gown trailing after her, the black crown and blue hair shining with hints of reds and blues. 

The Queen sat behind her desk and gestured for Jon to take a seat on the other side. She was much more relaxed in her solar, practically leaning back in her chair as she watched him. Her eyes on him set his skin afire. 

“I have been around for a very long time Jon,” she said once he finally settled in his chair, “And the Night King has been a plague on my existence since.” 

“Can you help us defeat him,” Jon asked, his voice full of hope, although he tried tamper it down. Her face became sad as she stood and walked towards Jon. He watched her move gracefully over to him, her blue eyes shining brightly in the low light. 

“I’m so sorry.” she began, placing a warm hand on his arm, stepping even closer to him. With every word she spoke their chests touched, “I wish I could help you in some way, but my castle is not what it once was.”

“How did they defeat the army of the undead the last time,” Jon asked, his voice dropping low. She stepped away and Jon found himself missing her closeness. He felt his hand lift of its own accord, reaching for her, but she had moved away before his skin could make contact with hers. She couldn’t seem to look at him and he could sense that she was hiding something. Jon took a step forward, seeing the distraught look that had come over her face. She looked into his eyes before her walls came down, hiding everything away from him.

“It has been a thousand years since the Night King last walked this land. I have treated with kings and queens and honored members of the Night’s Watch for that thousand years,” the Ice Queen began but as she spoke Jon’s eyes widened slightly in realization before a smirk fell over his features.

“You don’t remember,” Jon stated, astonishment in his voice. Her eyes widened, her blue brows shooting up towards her hairline. She stood and stomped over to him, her eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

“You will give me the proper respect Jon Snow,” she hissed at him, their bodies practically touching once again. 

“As you wish your Grace,” Jon said huskily. A moment of calm came over them, the electricity crackling between them. He looked into her eyes, the blue shining like sapphires in candle light. He hardly knew this woman, and yet he felt connected to her, felt his blood sing for her. He pulled her to him, his large calloused hands wrapping around her arms. Their lips crashed together in a passionate kiss. He breathed her in, her taste and smell filling his senses. She smelled like icy air and tasted like snow. He held her close to his body, his hands resting low on her hips before gliding it uper her sides and then her arms, the material of her dress moving roughly against his calloused his. 

Soon her hands where in his hair, loosening the leather tie that kept everything in place. Her nails scratching against scalp brought his thoughts back to reality. Vows previously broken, lives lost due to his inability to keep his mind on track to the war to come; all the memories of red hair and laughter flooded his mind. Guilt and sadness began to fill him and pulled away from the Queen’s plump lips. He remained close, his arms now wrapped completely around her, her warmth seeping into his leathers. She could see the hesitation and the guilt and fear in his eyes and concern washed over her. Her hand came up and rested against his cheek, her thumb massaging gentle circles into it. Jon could feel his shoulders lowering as his tension was being released.

“What is wrong my king,” she asked, her voice soft, nearly a whisper. Jon looked between her lips and her eyes, the struggle of want and duty hurting his heart.

“I can’t do this,” Jon finally said, but he made no move to release her.

“And why is that,” she asked, her hand now gently cupping his cheek as she waited patiently for his response.

“The last time I forgot my duty and broke my vows people ended up dead. I am a king now, I can not be so selfish,” Jon told her. His heart melted at the sight of her warm smile, but he could still see the sadness in her blue eyes.

“Heavy is the head that lies the crown,” she said, then paused for a moment. She watched him and he watched her, and Jon felt safe with her. 

“Are you betrothed to be married Jon Snow,” she finally asked, and Jon was startled by the question.

“No, I am not; nor am I married. I would never betray my wife in such a way,” Jon told her, offended by her question. His offense fled at the sound of her deep laugh, and he enjoyed feeling the movement of her chest and belly and against him as she did.

“I know, you are an honorable man. That is why I’m going to give you a piece of advice,” she began. She took a deep breath and looked down and Jon felt like a piece of him was torn away. It was almost painful when she wasn’t looking at him. Her warm hand landed on his chest, just over his heart. He could almost feel the pads of her fingers against his skin, running over his scars, and he could feel his arousal rising. He tampered it down, duty and honor running through his head, bringing the heat down like cold water on top of his head. 

“Being of the Night’s Watch is an honorable thing,” she finally continued, “And being a King is an honorable thing. But the vows you make as a Watchmen and the vows you make as a King are different. Being honorable will help you rule your realm, but you are just a man,” the queen’s voice became softer on the last words, her lips coming close to his once again. His own lips searched for hers, but there was a hesitation as he tasted her once again. She pulled away just enough to finish her words.

“And as a man; you can take what you want,” she said, her teeth coming out and biting lightly on his bottom lip. The sting made Jon draw in a breath, but he wanted more.

“I want you,” he told her, his voice a harsh whisper, his need in his warm brown eyes. The Queen smiled and after a heart beat her lips finally crashed to his. All of the pieces began to fall together as he wrapped his arms around her completely once again. The taste of ice and snow touched his tongue again as she enveloped him.

Soon hands were a flurry as king and queen began to remove clothes. Fingers removed laces and ties, nails scratched against scalps, teeth tore at lips as they became undressed. Jon hadn’t felt so alive in such a long time as his blood raced through his veins. Soon the queen was in a shift and Jon was in his breeches. They stopped and looked at each other, chests heaving as they glanced around her solar to see the clothes strewn across the floor. The queen looked at Jon and smiles. The smile is bright and warm like the sun and it reminded Jon of happier times. When the rays would hit his skin and banish the cold and dark and snow when morning came.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe. The queen’s smile brightened even more as she grasped her shift and began to remove it. Jon stepped forward, his hands over hers as he helped her lift the material over her head. Jon smiled back as her blue eyes came into view, his heart fluttering against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand closing around her hair and gently pulled it from the neck hole of the shift. His skin tingled with the contact of her body against his and he could feel himself grow harder in his breeches. She dragged her hand down his chest, her fingertips grazing against skin and scars before landing at the top of his pants. Jon finally released her hair, weaving his own fingers within, bringing her lips to his once again as her fingers made work on the laces of his breaches. 

He sucked in a breath when her hand grasped around his hard shaft. He pulled his mouth away from hers before reaching down and wrapping his hands around her thighs, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. The queen giggled as she was lifted up, using a hand to wrap her hair around them as Jon carried her through the door that connected her solar to her bedroom to make sure he didn’t trip. When he felt his knees bump her bed he tossed her onto the soft pelts, causing for the usually collected queen to squeal as air rushed passed her. Jon soon followed after her, pouncing on her. 

He kissed her neck, switching between licking, lips and teeth. The queen allowed her eyes to close, leaning back into the fur, her hands clutching onto the bed as Jon continued his way down her body. She shuddered as his lips reached the apex of her thighs, his beard scratching deliciously against her skin. Jon looked up at her, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her shudders turned to sighs turned to moans as his lips reached her hot wet center.

“What are you doing,” she gasped out, her eyes popping open. She sat up on her elbows, looking down at Jon’s innocent eyes. Behind the innocence she could see the mischievous glint in his eye. Seeing him there, his face between her thighs, made heat crawl across her skin.

“I’m giving you a kiss,” Jon told her, a smile lifting the corners of his cheeks. He raises his hand, his calloused fingers gliding across her hot core. The queen’s head falls back, a moan rising out of her throat.

“A lord’s kiss,” Jon whispered, his warm and soft lips encircling her center once again.

“A king’s kiss,” the Queen murmured back, allowing her body to fall back into the soft fur. Jon’s tongue reached out, the wetness enveloping her nether lips, making the queen his, her hands shooting to his hair. He slid a finger inside of her, the dual sensations making her body thrum and undulate. His arm wrapped around her thigh, forcing her leg up as he clutched onto her hands in his hair.

“Do with me what you will my queen,” he said after pulling away from his ministrations. The queen looked down at him once again, her hands weaving into his hair, pulling. Jon groaned, the slight tug on his scalp and the heat of her skin turning him on further. His own pelvis began to grind against the bed, his hand moving faster against her. He inserted another finger, curling it towards himself as his tongue made fast work against her pleasure nub. The queen began to move her hips in time with him, her moans becoming loader and more frequent. 

“Oh gods,” she cried out, her hands pressing Jon’s face to her heat. Jon could barely breathe, but he loved it. His slowed down the movement of his fingers, pressing gentle kisses to her center as she rode out her high. Her hands slowly released their death grip on his scalp, and Jon pulled away, a satisfied smile on his face. The queen’s hands went to his cheeks, pulling him to her. Jon laid himself on top her, his hips settling into hers. She wrapped her legs around him once again, holding him to her as she kissed him fervently, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. She pulled away, looking into his eyes once again.

“I wish I had met you sooner,” the queen admitted, a sad look coming over her features, “I feel if we had we would have been saved a lot of years of loneliness.” Jon’s hand rested against her cheek, dragging his thumb across her lips. She took his thumb into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it a moment before releasing it.

“I’m glad I’ve met you now,” Jon told her, his own features softening at her admission, “The Jon before was a boy. The Jon before you now is a man.” 

“Do you wish to stay? Here, with me? For eternity,” she asked, her voice timid but her eyes were shining with hope. Jon sighed, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing.

“You know as well as I that I can’t. I have people depending on me as King,” Jon whispered before pulling away enough to look her in the eye once again. The queen tried to chase her sadness away with a smile, but Jon could still see the pain of rejection on her face.

“Then let us make the most of our time together,” the queen stated before using her weight to flip them. The queen now was above Jon, her pelvis sitting on top of his. Jon’s hands made their way from her hips to her breasts, calluses gliding against smooth skin, setting her on fire. The queen reached beneath her and wrapped her hand around his shaft, finally pulling it free from it’s confines. Jon moaned softly as her hand moved up and down. His eyes fell shut as he allowed pleasure to shoot through his body.

Thoughts began to whirl through his mind. How easy it would be if he stayed there with her. How easy would it be to forget his duties and responsibilities. How easy it would be to leave it all behind and live his days and nights between her legs. 

Thoughts escaped him as he felt warm heat envelope him. His eyes shot open as a groan escaped him and he saw the queen slowly lowering herself onto him, her head falling back slightly as she hummed. Jon lowered one hand, using his thumb to rub a gentle circle into her pleasure nub, making the queen jolt a top him. She began to ride him, falling forward as the sensations became more intense, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, clenching tightly, her nails biting into his skin. Her lips crashed against his, and jon used the moment to wrap an arm around her and rolling them over. He paused a moment to kick his pants down quickly, his urgency making the queen giggle.

“The sight of me struggling pleases you,” Jon asked, a brow arching. He continued to squirm on top of her, making her laugh more. Her hands moved to his hips, gliding over the globes of his ass as she helped him push the pants down. 

“You could have stood up,” she replied, her voice soft and amused. 

“And leave your glorious heat. Absolutely not,” he told her, the pants low enough for him to kick them off his feet and onto the floor. Free completely of his wardrobe restraints he lifted himself up, his hips moving against hers at a new brutal pace. The queen’s moans sang from her throat, her hands clutching onto him, holding him as close as possible. Jon’s own groans mingled with hers, his thumb resuming its ministrations, the queen’s body becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. Jon kissed her, biting hard on her bottom lip. Her eyes were shut tight, but her nails dug into his skin, her kisses sloppy. Sweat glistened on their skin, making their movements slippery as they clutched onto one another. 

“I’m about to,” Jon whispered harshly, he began to pull away, to pull out of her as much as the thought pained him. The queen’s hands landed onto his ass, pressing him into her.

“Stay,” the queen whispered back, almost a growl in the back of her throat.

“I will not father bastards,” Jon said, trying but failing to pull away. The queen was much stronger than she appeared. 

“You won’t. I promise. Stay,” she told him. Jon felt relief at her words, his hips sputtering against her. He roared on his release. He rested his lips against her cheek as he breathed in and out, his chest pressing against hers. He began to lower himself once again, his lips and tongue moving erratically against her pleasure center. He could taste himself, something he had never done before, but the new taste and smell and knowing it gave her pleasure reignited the fire within him. He groaned at the slight twitch of his dick, causing the vibrations to shoot up. The queen cried out, her body shuddering against his mouth. Jon continued to eat his prize, the sounds he made filthy as the smell of sex and sweat filled the air. 

Jon finally finished his slupring, gently kissing her thighs before pulling himself to lay beside her. The queen lazily tossed her leg across his hips, and Jon curled into her, his fingertips grazing up and down her thigh, butt, and back. 

“Thank you,” the queen sighed, her voice full of exhaustion and content. Jon looked at her, a smile creeping upon his lips.

“I should be the one thanking you. For letting my men and I into your home,” Jon told her.

“And for letting you into my bed,” she asked, a single brow arching. Jon laughed freely.

“For that too, aye,” Jon said, “For a moment I was thinking I might just stay. Leave the world behind.”

“But you won’t. I have a feeling you’re the type of man that likes to take the hard road,” the queen replied.

“Like is a very strong word,” he groaned out as he stretched out on the bed. The queen moved and rested her head on his chest.

“Sleep Jon Snow. I will be here when you wake,” she said to him, her hand gliding up and down his chest, soothing him. Jon allowed his eyes to shut, his breathing to deepen, and for his body to rest.

 

~0~0~

 

Jon could feel warm rays come through the windows, gently waking him from his sleep. He wasn’t sure how the sun reached her room as the castle is underground, but he decided not to question it and enjoyed the warmth.

“The King finally wakes,” the Ice Queen said from the edge of the bed, naked, a platter of food in front of her. Jon smiled as he sat up, the cool air around him bringing goosebumps rise. He moved closer to her, grabbing the chunk of bread she was bringing to her mouth and popping it in his own.

“I was going to eat that,” she told him, her tone short. Jon kept his smile on his face as he reached over for more bread to break his fast. The queen shook her head but remained otherwise silent. Moments passed and Jon could tell that she had something she wanted to say.

“You have something on your mind,” he asked her, his voice quiet, afraid to break the spell that had fallen over him. The queen stood and went to a chest filled with dresses. She reached in and pulled out a sheer blue dressing gown. After covering herself she stepped back to Jon. She grasped his hands, weaving her fingers with his, palms touching palms.

“You have a power within you Jon. I can feel it,” she began, “I had a dream last night; a vision.”

“What was the vision of,” he asked her, concern entering his features.

“Dragons flying, fire. Screams of torture and fear. There are things beyond the Night King you will need to be wary of in these coming days Jon Snow,” she told him. 

“Dragons,” he whispered out. Letters from the dragon queen of the east rose to his mind. His heart began to patter against his chest. 

“I can’t help you with the Night King. I don’t have the power, not anymore. But you must always remember that you have all the power you need within you. Trust yourself above anyone else. Be smarter than your forefathers. It’s the only way you’ll survive,” she told him earnestly, her hands a tight grip on his, his skin turning white from the pressure. Sansa’s words from the night before the battle with Ramsey came to his mind.

 

_ Just don’t do what he wants you to do. _

_ He wants you to make a mistake. _

_ You think he’ll fall into your trap, but he won’t. He’s the one that lays traps. _

 

Jon nodded, pulling the queen’s arm around him, laying gentle kisses on face. She was so warm and tender, and thoughts of staying entered his mind once again, but he couldn’t escape Sansa’s eyes. He couldn’t escape the sight of her dead, her warm blue eyes turning cold and other worldly.

“I must set out for Winterfell today,” Jon told the queen. 

“So soon,” the queen asked, but she knew. Without being able to offer aid, there was no reason for Jon Snow to stay.

“Aye,” Jon replied simply. The Ice Queen began to pull away, but Jon held her close to him.

“I have not finished breaking my fast,” Jon said as he pulled her onto the bed. Jon moved the sheer covering, his mouth covering her mound, beginning his feast.

 

~0~0~

 

The Ice Queen once again sat on her throne. The warmth she had shown Jon her chambers gone as him and his party stand before her. The direwolf and bear once again sat beside her, creating a fearsome image.

“Thank you for your hospitality your grace,” Jon said, bowing slightly in deference. Davos and Sam followed suit, but Tormund remained standing tall. Sam cleared his throat, causing for all to look at him unbeknownst to him as he tried to indicate to Tormund that he also must bow. Tormund gave him a blank stare.

“That is alright. The Free folk are never required to show the same courtesies as others,” The queen stated, a barely there curve lifting the edge of her mouth. Tormund gave a small nod as Sam and Davos straightened. Davos gave Sam a fatherly glare before looking ahead once again.

The men couldn’t help but be in awe of the gown the queen wore this day. Midnight blue, almost black with long sleeves and pointed cuffs. The neckline was low, outlining her bosom with light crystals and silver thread. A silver belt adorned her waist, a long sliver reaching up to connect to the thick silver necklace around her neck. Jon wondered how she could move in the contraption and was in amazement at the clothing women usually wear. The bottom of the gown hugged her curves, much different from the styles he had always seen, as the bottom belled out at her feet.

“I wish you luck on your ventures your grace,” the queen stated, looking Jon deeply in the eyes, “You will always have a friend at the Wall.”

“I thank you once again for everything you’ve done for me and my men,” Jon told her. She gifted him with a smile, and it was the sweetest smile he has seen in such a long time.

“Safe travels King in the North,” she said. She didn’t move from her throne. She simply nodded as Jon nodded towards her. Jon began the long walk down the hall, Davos, Sam and Tormund following behind him. The men leaving the same way they came and slowly the castle changed around them. Crystal chandeliers disappeared, warmth left as cold seeped in. Darkness greeted them. Jon paused and looked behind him, the other pausing beside him.

“I take it our endeavors have been less than fruitful,” Davos asked. Jon looked at him but otherwise remained silent. Tormund clapped him sharply on the back, jolting Jon’s attention to him.

“Did she taste as good as she looked,” Tormund asked, guffawing at the look Jon gave him. 

“Wait, you coupled with her,” Sam asked. Jon, Davos, and Tormund now all laughed. Sam attempted to laugh as well, but it was not lost on him that he was not a part of the joke. Jon laid a gentle hand on the back of Sam’s neck and began to walk forward, back to the weirwood gate.

“Let’s go home,” Jon said and the men walked into the dark. 

  
  



End file.
